Page 38 of The Secrets of Ashmore Castle

Giles frowned, but this wasn’t the place to pursue it. Richard processed to the carriage, with people smiling and greeting him, and many hands to shake – a bit like his own homecoming, Giles thought, except that there was no element of duty in it: these well-wishers simply liked Richard and were glad to see him again. I wish I could do that, Giles thought. A young woman held up her baby to Richard, and he kissed its cheek, then kissed hers as well, and made everyone whoop and laugh.

‘Mr Richard’s handsome, isn’t he?’ Dory said, as she walked with Rose down the long basement corridor they called Piccadilly, towards the dining-room and the servants’ dinner.

‘Yes, and good-natured too,’ Rose answered.

James, overtaking them with his rapid, jerky walk, said, ‘You’ve already got William following you like a little dog. Isn’t that enough?’

‘No-one was talking to you,’ Rose spat back.

‘And I wasn’t talking to you. Miss Dory here seems to think every male in the house has got to drool over her.’

‘You’re just sore because she doesn’t fancy you,’ Rose said.

He snorted in derision, and, having passed them, turned and walked backwards for a few paces so that he could say to Dory, ‘Don’t you get mixed up with Mr Richard. He’s limed a lot of little birds in his time, and they all ended up dead.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Dory said, but he’d turned and hurried on.

‘Pay no attention,’ said Rose, and then, curiously, ‘Are you really William’s sweetie?’

‘No. I just feel sorry for him,’ Dory said.

Neither noticed the half-open door of the china room as they passed it, or William just inside about to come out with a tureen in his hands.

Dinner that evening was lively. The girls were chatty as they rarely were in their mother’s presence, and Richard regaled them all with stories, some of which might even have been true. It was a pleasant interlude.

Later, when the ladies had gone to bed, Giles and Richard sat together by the fire in the library, with a decanter of brandy and Richard’s cigarillos, which he preferred to cigars or cigarettes. Giles, who was not much of a smoker, tried one and quite liked it. The dogs stretched out between Giles’s feet and the hearth, groaning occasionally with the double pleasure.

‘I see you’ve got Father’s hounds,’ Richard remarked. ‘Are you fond of dogs? I can’t remember.’

‘You know I am. I had a spaniel when I was a boy – don’t you remember Buffy?’

‘Good Lord, yes, now you mention it. He was gun-shy and Papa was going to knock him on the head.’

‘I didn’t endear myself to Father by pleading for the dog. Soft-heartedness was not a trait he wanted to see in his heir.’

‘It all seems so long ago,’ Richard said pensively. The firelight, throwing his face into relief, showed up lines that hadn’t been there before.

‘You have changed,’ Giles said. ‘I thought you were just the same old Richard, the court jester, when you were telling those outrageous stories at dinner—’

‘True, every word, I assure you!’

‘But underneath you’re more serious. You’ve seen things, I suppose.’

‘Too much death,’ Richard said, his mouth turning down. ‘Nobody dies easily in a war. And too many of them were women and children.’

‘It’s not finished yet?’ Giles asked.

‘All but,’ Richard said. ‘The Boers are licked, though they won’t admit it. “Bitter-enders”, they call themselves, and they’re not wrong. Bitter it certainly will be. But it can’t last much longer. They’re only hanging on by keeping on the move, keeping out of our way. They’re achieving nothing. If you like a wager, put money on a peace treaty by the end of next month.’ He gestured with the wounded arm. ‘I wasn’t entirely sorry about this. Excuse to get out. Not,’ he said, rousing himself to smile, ‘that it wasn’t a good lark most of the time. Galloping about the veld. Chance to broaden one’s horizons. Good horses, good fellows.’

He stopped, and smoked reflectively for a while.

The dogs sighed and turned over to toast the other side. Giles said, ‘Now you’re back, what do you mean to do?’

Richard roused himself. ‘I told you – help you.’

‘But how will you support yourself? I hope you don’t think the estate can support you. Our father left things in a bad way.’

Richard grinned, waving his cigarillo. ‘All that will pass away, old boy, when you hook your heiress. Marrying a rich girl for her money – you old dog!’